


He Shall Prosper

by Spacekitten



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Armor stays on during sex, BDSM, Covenants, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fluff at the very end, Lemme simp for the fancy vampire man, Mild Blood, Revendreth (Warcraft), Sadism, Scratching, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27464272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacekitten/pseuds/Spacekitten
Summary: Upon your adventures of Revendreth and with the mysterious venthyr race, you finally stumble amongst the heirarchy, the vicious yet generous Sire Denathrius. However, upon a stroll of the castle by your lonely mortal self, your little feet guide you in an unnecessary, yet humble direction.
Relationships: Sire Denathrius/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	He Shall Prosper

**Author's Note:**

> This is a long one ladies. I originally got writer's block for two weeks trying to come up with three paragraphs of the reader taking a stroll through the city.  
> Started writing this a teeny bit before Shadowlands came out, and finished it some time after I got my first main into the Venthyr campaign. Wanted to write this because Denathrius is... *chef's kiss*  
> MAGNIFICO

You shouldn't have taken that left.  
You really shouldn't have taken that fucking left.

The walls are dark and ascend with fitting carved decorations. Faint cries from the black hole known as the inescapable prison blow in like simple wind through the window. Its epicenter glows with that undead orange/yellow hue, tendrils of death swirling into the singularity. Every once in a while, you pick up a louder tone of a soul that is tossed or lost into the field, crying for mercy to not be sworn into eternity rather given a spared fate.  
But like he says, some just aren't worthy enough. They are too broken, too evil, too powerful.

"Quite the filling for mortal eyes, isn't it? An architectural wonder for the ages, even in the Shadowlands. I couldn't even begin to imagine what you mortals thrived to do..." the Sire's voice rang out from around a corner in the large room, presumably in an office not fully walled off. Why did all the doorways and archs have to be so goddamn high when the inhabitants aren't even a third as tall of them.  
"You're all so..." slightly he dragged the last word, taking large armor hooved steps towards the bed from the other section of the room, seeing you half laying, half sitting on the end of the bed. Meanwhile you were partially against one of the pillars on the corner. Both of your hands were bound to said pillar, not granting you much moving room. The hair on your head drooped down the sides as your gazed up to his towering figure, the evil plate boots, kneepads, belt and shoulderpads mocking your tinier bits of clad, while he also had chest-parted robe underneath with intricate designs embedded into the cloth.  
"...small."

What an asshole.

He said nothing more, taking his focus off of you and towards the large opening on the far side of the room that was referred to as a window. Predictions told you he used it to watch sinful souls fall into the darkness below. Therefore you spent your time finally looking at the chains that bound you to the sleepy furniture. They almost looked like ordinary circlets, except you could spot little bits of swirly designs carved into the metal. They looked similar to that of the ones on his robe. Probably something you're going to be seeing for a while.  
Hooves stamped their way in front of you again, and you kept your head down. Ultimate loss of interest became of you after examining the chains. For a split second your brain worked and thought you saw some rust on the bottoms of his boots, as well at some clipping attachments, likely made for bipedals such as him. Your little mind pictured a draenei trying to fit a standard leather human boot into its boney appendage, and you snickered.  
"Such a lively breath, mortal," he scoffed with a lowering tone towards the end of the sentence. Damnit, he's thinking you see him as lowly, you bet. In a sense of remembering, draenei legs were styled that the lower half was actually just an extended foot, and that the hoof was actually a toenail--  
"I can say with contempt that I recall why Remornia craves for your living flesh. Sometimes your chatter is... remotely delinquent," the colossal being of royalty would face his body to you, but his head kept its gaze higher than where your face would fall into his vision. Upper class indeed.  
"I believe you have more purpose and meaning than being a living person, all alone on the 'other side,' or holding a title so many of us would scrounge faster than a blink." What the hell did he mean. Was he going to make you his personal maiden, like the other realms had, with their owls and tiny people and shit? You never saw him with one of those altered... munchkins like the rest of the venthyr. He can control a sentient sword at his will; why would he need a small ass servant?  
"Go on, give me one of those stupid carriers so I can hold your drinks and moldy pieces of bread that are probably super fucking aged out and given 'taste' with anima. Oh, and dress me up like one of those short runts too!" the words flowed out of your mouth like a sassy Jaina. Warning connections in your brain were completely turned off, but turned back with the fastest switch in the universe-- erm, Shadowlands, as the Sire would take one large step towards you, his plated hoof causing a loud echo in the room. Was everything here supposed to look dark and dramatic?  
"The answer is no, but I will not permit you to throw such a degrading tone at me any further," a large hand -- ok it was actually big enough to probably clasp around your whole fuckin' head -- wrapped around the pillar you were strung to by your metal binds, black claw fingernails making faint taps against the build. You hear the pillar producing stressful noises under his increasing grip. Yyyep, you were fucked. Three hundred twenty seven thousand, four hundred eighty six times fucked over. You counted.  
"...sorry."  
The pillar gave off a sound of relief with being released, and you barely register looking up in any acceptance of his apology before you're face to face with a large gray palm and finger creases. Red aura is summoned from the thick digits, and in moments you're passing out into a medium slumber.

"...I have a much better use for you."

Almost like last words inserted into your ear, except they didn't sound mournful or demanding like it was going to take control of you by injecting that red shit into your brain.

By the far away sounds of shuffling cloth and of your armor as you go in out of consciousness, it... kind of sounded like he was doing something with your armor and clothes? Why would he lie about not playing dress up? Wait. Hold up. He does hold that persona to lie, but you haven't really heard of it.

"How effective is my power against you mortals? Something that is profound of my own knowledge..." the voice sounded more of a rumble. You couldn't open your eyes, but you slowly began to feel your body once more. Arms were laid above your head on something soft. On your back held the same softness, as well as your legs. Well, half of them. The chill of the air coated your... calves and feet?  
Focus Y/N. The back parts of your body were pressed onto something soft, your front was all open to the air. Good lord, you were naked. With Denathrius in the room. Something cold clasped around your wrists too; they felt colder than the air. Twisting your hands around, it was the familiar grip of metal cuffs. You tugged your arms away from the source, and heard the song of clinking chains.  
Your heart begins to race, sweat is shivering, and your eyes still wouldn't open. There is nothing covering them, and nothing forcing them shut. Fear prevented you from opening them. They might just open up to see something you... kind of wanted to see in the back of your mind a while back, but right now isn't a good fucking time.  
"My, my..."  
'Oh, fuck me,' you cursed to yourself.

WAIT.

"This figure... what other ones I have harvested in my own sight defiles in comparison to yours. It being in such a compressed size makes me want to be closer, and make the entire best of everything it holds, and can provide."  
This is going to end well.  
Finally, you open your eyes to him, still clad in his full armor. The view of your lower body prevented the sight of his, but seeing he still had his shoulder guards and robe on above, you figured it was going to be some... simple foreplay. Denathrius takes ahold of your ankles, and lifts your legs. Wait is he going straight into-- no. His hands drag up, or down in your perspective, your calves, and rest clamped around your thighs. The black claws threaten to tear at the soft plump flesh... which was just his idea. Suddenly the sting of scratching pain sets your nerves aflame, causing you to fling your head back to the pillows in a hiss. It went on for what felt like so long, when it was only a few seconds of breaking the skin. You glance back up to see four symmetrical red lines horizontally crossing the fronts of your thighs, slowly emerging blood from the openings. What a way to mark you. Could have at least given you a hickey or bite your thigh, not tear it open like some mindless cat. Given your arrangement though, that doesn't seem to be the case... However, you were slowly growing ok with it. Arousal was obvious on your form all over -- peaked nipples, increasing amount of sweat, a small flush coloring your cheeks and partial neck, and the blood flowing to the place with the most nerves on your kind's anatomy. A wreckage of 8,000 little bundles meant solely for pleasure alone, but so damn easy to hide, unlike men who make it so prominent with their goddamn pants.  
Next his fingers drum on the freshly cut wounds, and drag them over roughly, bringing more lightheaded pain to you. Playing at opening them up more instead of letting them scar over naturally, but it seems he wouldn't be allowing your own body to perform as it intended. Seems he had a whole plan in place. The next move consisted of standing up completely, and you took notice that... his belt wasn't fully on? There was no guard with that purple gem and golden outline, nor the red cloth flaps that hung down. In fact, it just looked like it was shoved to the side, sitting lopsided on his hip. You couldn't see further down than the beginning of the flaps. Mentally you began praying to whatever source you worshipped, the Light or whatever, hoping he would start up something real and true, and not torment you any further.  
"C-can you--" you couldn't linger more on your sentence with a looming stare he threw at you.  
"Go on, express how... candor you believe me to be," a devilish smirk is tossed into the mix of emotions you were feeling.  
"St-stop... teasinggg..." you released with a whine.  
"Goodness, you have fallen into my prestige so rapidly. Fortunate that I discovered you instead of splitting my thoughts to searching for another candidate to sate my appetite, which is very vast," oh, he was really giving you that voice kink and fetish now. Or maybe you had one already? You have a lot of them sealed in your horny head. Just lean forward and shout 'Ye olde prone bone!' to his dick and get decapitated. That would be an excellent input on your sin stone. 'Made fun of the master's genitals.' Has a sweet, sweet ring to it.  
"Close your eyes, Y/N," by the gods, your name rolling off his tongue was enough to swell an entire waterfall from your pussy. Instead, it was just another rush of excitement shoved down there, that he saw of course. No more time passes his lips. Instead he leans down, his huge figure hovering over you that could collapse and crush you under his weight at any given moment. Something presses your soaked folds, his fingers. Their length surpassed that of the size of your womanhood and back side opening combined... was this fucker even going to fit when the time came?  
"I will nourish in breaking you."  
Fingers began to circle and mush hard on your folds and clit. The sheer thrill of it sent massive shivers through your whole body, coming out in a cursed verbal release. Here and there you could feel a claw make small marks in the crevice of your thighs and asscheeks. This guy really likes to bleed people, huh?

Oh there it is. There it fucking is. You felt the broad side of a claw dipping into your quenched hole very slowly, like he knew to be careful of this on a mortal, whereas the female venthyr probably had bleeding vagina or period kinks and fetishes. Warning signals of pain alerted your brain as you felt the claw drag on your inner walls. Afraid he was actually going to rip you from the inside. Suddenly a very sensitive and amazing rush of energy ran up your spine. Did he find your g-spot that easily? Oh yes he did. When you heard the chuff of amusement and felt the pad of his thumb against the head of your clit, you knew what was about to unfold. Starting off slow and steady, not bothering to go any faster until you dreaded not feeling any sort of rise. You had to open your eyes. You do. His dark red ones are literally staring into your soul, it feels like. The way the fires and small pinches of light in the room reflected and lit those evil orbs up was something else. A view you began to admire, much more than the room itself or the Maw just outside. For the first time that night, your lips curl up in a smile, and that gave off a signal. His digits thrusted faster, almost out of your comfort zone. This caused your eyes to slam shut and throw your head back in a much needed moan, a noise you were desperate to release.  
"Fuuuck..." a guttural sound, low and raspy from your mouth. Your noises were the perfect distraction from what other moves he was about to pull. Just past your shuffling and whines you thought you could hear the all too familiar oomf of pants dropping down one's legs, but you disregarded it because you were close to hitting your climax, and the fact that his legs are all back and forth.

Squish. Squelch.

Squeak. Sob.

Grunt. Cry.

"De-Denathrius!!" finally you let loose, achingly lifting your legs to close around his middle the best you could, curling your toes to the point of pain. Hard, heavy breaths hit you in the neck and face. Senses told you it was him offering his own admiration towards your sweet climactic high. After you had just begun to fall from it, he slides his index and middle finger in, without any remaining notability to his claws possibly puncturing you. You swore you felt the base of those fingers at your entrance; they were shoved all the way in. Inside you could feel the claws giving threatening taps to your walls. Your eyes were flung open and showing fear and still some remnant of the orgasm moments before. It was at that split second after that he retreated the fingers and... left you unharmed. Gee, he must be VERY talented at this. The fingers alone were long enough to likely outgrow some dick lengths you've encountered before, given his whole larger body size.  
"Such a tight cunt... I can't wait to bruise it with my cock." Great fucking gods, the way those obscene words came out of his mouth made you arch your back, and the sensation like a heartbeat pounding in your pussy ransacked your senses.  
"P-please... please Denathrius, bruise me and claim me..." you were begging beyond redemption. The bed creaks underneath the weight of him crawling backward and to the floor before the end of the bed itself, hovering an arm forward to take a grasp at his package. If eye candy was a true thing, you were getting diabetes twenty times over just by looking at him stroking his length. His claws made it look even hotter, but you were sure he wouldn't inflict such a task upon himself. Only you.  
No time was wasted with the sudden appearance of a blindfold over your eyes. The bed began creaking again, with longer tunes. Something hard and rough but smooth feeling landed onto your belly... one of your hands was snatched by his and brought to the size that laid upon you. Surely enough, the tip of the head laid between your belly button and sternum, whereas you felt his soft pair pressing on your folds. He guides your other hand down, and rests either of them on his length, allowing you to feel, but not see. No grasp around the circumference with just one hand, it was briefly similar to holding a wine bottle with two hands. Thick enough.  
"This will be exponential for you, mortal. An ordeal that will highly transcend what you have taken in before me. Your limitations matter nothing compared to my desires," the air shifts against you, and a long nail dips the blindfold upward, granting you sight of him.  
"Now... what are you, Y/N?"  
"I'm... I'm y-yours, Master."  
Whirring picks up in your ears; the strain on your wrists is taken away. But he grabs you by both of them, and glares down at you with command.  
"You... are nothing. You have no status. No privelages. You exist only to sate my appetite. You shall fulfill each and every one of my carnal desires as often as I deem necessary," you're shoved back down, and with the wave of his hand the chains reappear from smoke encircling your wrists, and solidifying into hard metal. The blindfold also takes back its place.  
"You belong to me."

For the next long while, everything is dark. Dark, but one of the most essential times of your living life.  
Denathrius began with simple taps of his cock on your greedy pussy, leaving you to say nothing in return. He had prohibited you speaking before the real shit started happening, really. Until then, all that was required were the delicious, succulent sounds of your ecstasy. Aside all that he was offering you more and more promises and demands with that amazing voice he owned. Enough tapping. It was time to drain you. The head of his cock parted your folds and brushed on your wet entrance, and he tries to push in. You were quite slippery down there, so he slips upward instead of thrusting in the first time. Both of you let out a chuckle; he lets it pass... weird.  
The second time was a charm. A lovely sound of the head passing into you travels to both sets of ears, earning him a grunt and you a breathy whine. Just the head was in. You felt his hands press onto the blankets on either side of you. Seems having just the head in was enough. Your legs spread out further if they can to invite his large size, because he was pushing himself in further. Deeper. Harder. He wasn't quite able to get all the way in, but you certainly bet he was in deep enough to breach your womb.  
"Goodness, not even halfway... I suppose this will have to serve."  
Not even HALFWAY?  
Before you could even panic he starts to thrust rapidly, pinpointing where to halt the entries so he doesn't actually hurt you. How generous.  
"Ergh... even tighter with my... cock bursting into you..." his words only had breaks in between them because of his quick pace. Meanwhile you were a hot and sweaty mess. Fabric began to tear away from itself from his claws dragging down the blanket, and curl his fingers on your hips. Somehow he thrusted deeper this time. A bulge appeared on your tummy now, slightly pushing on his thumbs that lingered there.  
"What a gorgeous sight... I have never behold such a breach on others," at last he provides another grunt, and heavy exhale.  
"FUUCK yes yes yes yes!!" Rule broken. Squeals of delight had to escape your mouth, despite the forbidding words of the Master. In a flash your airway was restricted. He was choking you, and hard. He was getting faster and harder. Your teeth grinded to the point of pain.  
"Damnit... I am going t-to... have s-such a splendid--" he growls out loud, gritting his teeth, "release in you..." his stuttered speech was enough to power you over your second edge. He sensed your peak and released your neck, allowing you to cry out. Luckily on his benefit, your orgasm was long enough for his to finally draw out.  
Loud pants and growls emit from his mouth sided with his quickest thrusts, soon grabbing your legs with a tight grip around the upper thighs. He remembered he couldn't go in further, but he didn't care.  
He went all the way in. A first rope comes out -- long thick and hot, before he pulls out and releases the rest of them onto your body. Messy designs splayed upon your face, chest, belly, and crotch. During the whole play he's stroking himself roughly with more growls and moans. No wonder he put the blindfold on you, he didn't want you to see him being submissive whatsoever. 'What a fucking asshole,' you thought, 'I love him.'  
Speaking of blindfold, you noticed your sight come back to you, slowly adjusting to the faint light of the room. You find his nut mess all over, and your fingers begin tracing intricate patterns with what you could find.  
"I had no intentions of you acting out such strange, yet... fervor behavior with my seed, mortal," he leans to the side, the original pillar of your holding offering him support. "Now have your taste."  
The harvest was bountiful. Your fading lust still offered your want to take in and swallow what he had shared.  
"I'm so glad I took a walk today..." was all that came out of the result. The salty taste of him would linger in your mind for a while, along with so, so much more.  
"I too sought the release of my own, and I am humble for your attendance. You have poised me."  
For the first time that night, he leans in to kiss you tenderly, keeping it soft for how gracious a guest you were, and from that post-coital feeling. The chains holding you up vanish in thin air, allowing you to bring your hands up and cup his cheeks. You loved aftercare in your sessions with others, but Denathrius gave you another point of view. He had opened up many doors for you. His large hands slide around your middle and lift you up into a sort of hug snuggle, placing you in his lap and adjusting your sore legs perfectly. The Sire was known for his devious actions, but they certainly did not apply to the bedroom. Willing to please, both himself and his partner in multiple ways... and angles.  
"Ah, let me mend the... wounds I have inflicted," with the wave of a hand, anima flies softly around your thighs, and the claw marks mesh over into normal skin.  
"Thank you, Sire."  
Another kiss occurs before you're sat more in a more humbled manner in his lap.  
"Mmh... Denathrius... Daddynathrius..." you mumbled, and felt him draw back in major confusion. "Oh uh! Sorry, it's a uh... nickname, I guess?" words splintered out like a broken record.  
"Very well. You may only use that name on me in my private quarters, and in the worst case scenario, alone in the public," Denathrius demands.  
"Deal," you kissed his nose and slipped your fingers between the strands of hair that hung on the sides of his face. Your right hand then lingered up his left ear, and lightly flicked at the single stud earring in the middle of the long body part. "Why just the one?"  
"Do not deter my appearance, mortal." You giggled.  
This was going to be an amazing afterlife for the time being.

Then the raid comes up and you decide to not queue up because you'd feel really bad for killing him, even though he's working for the Jailer. Let the elites take care of it.

**Author's Note:**

> There you go, sinners.  
> I will be hosting a horny-fest to myself over Daddynathrius, and I am invited.


End file.
